Stitches
by youareaneggroll
Summary: David wakes up to crying in the night, but it isn't night terrors. Foster Parent AU Pt 2.
1. Chapter 1

David stirred in the middle of the night to the sound of muffled crying. He blinked a few times in his half-asleep state, listening to make sure he wasn't dreaming and sitting up when it failed to stop. He moved to the edge of his bed and pushed back the covers.

He went out into the hallway and flicked on the light, squinting as his eyes adjusted. The crying was more distinguishable from out here.

He went to the most obvious place first; Max's bedroom. The door was already ajar when he got there and he peered inside, light from the hallway shining in and showing his bed to be empty.

David went back out and followed the sound to his upstairs bathroom.

The floorboards creaked under his bare feet and the sobs stopped.

"Max?" David's voice was hoarse from sleep, concerned. "Max? Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other side of the door.

David pressed a palm against the wood of one of the door panels. "Max?"

More silence.

"Is it nightmares? You can come and sleep in my bed with me, if you want," he offered.

When he got no response again David sighed and rubbed at his eyes. So, he was in one of _those_ moods.

Going back to bed wasn't an option, despite how tired David was after a long week at Campbell's Wildlife Retreat, he wouldn't be able to knowing Max was scared and hurting. It had been a good year since the last night terror; David had been hoping it was the last.

"I'm gonna go make us some tea, you want me to put some honey in yours?" said David, knocking on the door again.

He was ignored. David sighed and went to get his dressing gown, heading downstairs, flicking on lights as he did so.

In the kitchen, he switched on the kettle, grabbing a couple of mugs out the cupboard. Max liked ginger and lemon, so David put a tea bag of that in his, chamomile in his own. He got out two plates next, thinking a slice of leftover cake might help cheer Max up a little bit.

David took the cake out of the fridge, cutting the last of it in two, putting the larger piece aside for Max. It had originally been Max's birthday cake from last week. Neil and Nikki had both stayed over the weekend to celebrate his 14th, with a gathering of friends joining them for the birthday party.

His Aunt Gwen had been there too, David's childhood best friend. The kids had been a handful, even with the two of them, but Max seemed to have enjoyed himself in his own, scowling way.

He filled the mugs with water from the kettle, putting everything on a tray and carrying it upstairs. He set it on Max's desk in his bedroom, turning on his lamp.

It was then David noticed the letter on the side table. His eyebrows came together in confusion. He went over and picked it up. _To David_ , Max had written across the front.

David sat down on the edge of Max's bed and tore open the top of the envelope, pulling out the letter inside. He brought it over to the lamp to read it better, scanning the messy scrawl.

His eyes widened.

He dropped the letter.

David was out in the hall in seconds, at the bathroom. He tried the door, found it locked. He rattled the door handle a few more times to make sure.

"Open this door," he said.

This time, when he got no response, David began to panic.

"I said, open this door, Max." David pressed his ear to the wood.

David could hear breathing inside. There was that relief, at least.

"Max, I found your letter and it's- you're really making me worried right now," continued David, trying to keep the fear out his voice, to remain calm and collected. "Please let me inside."

Nothing.

"Please," David pleaded again.

Nothing again.

"I'm serious, Max," he was sterner. "Let me in."

Absolutely nothing.

"Max."

There was nothing. David was just about to turn to go and find something to help him knock the door down with before-

"Dad," squeaked out from behind the door.

"It's okay, Max. It's okay, okay? I'm not angry," his reply was instantaneous. He rattled at the door handle again, desperate. "Please open the door, please, Max. I'm right here, just open the door."

Max sniffed behind the panelled wood, David listening to his footsteps against the tiles, the rattle of the lock as he opened it.

David hadn't seen so much blood in years.

Red stained the sink and the bathroom floor, Max's face pasty. David could see the broken plastic of his razor on the floor. The teenager must have plied out the razor blades by hand, the nasty cuts littering the ends of his fingers confirming it.

Max clutched at his wrist, blood oozing at an alarming rate through his dark fingers, littering the hallway carpet with spots. He was shaking. He was crying.

David stared. The world didn't come to a standstill like it did in the movies, but David wished it had, maybe that way it would have slowed some of Max's bleeding.

"I don't wanna die," Max croaked.

David felt faint, a chill going through him. His shock didn't last much longer, the man springing into action as he moved past Max into the bathroom to grab a towel from the back of the door. "Give me your arm," said David.

"But you just bought those," objected Max.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, taking Max's wrist and pushing it under the sink, flicking on the tap, needing to see how deep he'd punctured. Max gasped in pain at the blast and David apologised quickly, fear rising at the sight of open muscle.

It was bad. It needed stitches. Now.

"I'm sorry, David," Max was sobbing again, a type of breakdown David had never seen before. It was jarring and it scared him.

David put on a brave face and pressed the thickness of his recently purchased towel from _Bed, Bath and Beyond_ against the wound.

"It's gonna be okay," said David quickly, pushing back some of Max's unruly hair with a free hand. "We're gonna stop the bleeding and then we're gonna go to the hospital."

Max looked helpless, young again. It broke David's heart that he had felt like he couldn't talk to him about how he'd been feeling. David felt like he'd failed him. He ushered the teen downstairs, heart pumping in his throat.

They ended up at the kitchen table, David clicking open his First Aid kit with trembling fingers, getting Max sat down. Max's short, shallow breaths only caused him more distress. He pulled gauze from its packaging, warning apologetically it was going to hurt as he wrapped up his wrist quickly, blocking the bleeding. David applied three rolls of the stuff before he secured it with medical tape, feeling a little better once blood had stopped flowing everywhere.

"Come on, let's get to the car."

"Do we have to? It's stopped." Max sounded weak.

"Yes," David had the final word. "You need stitches, Max."

Neither changed out of their pyjamas, David throwing on his jacket and toeing on his shoes. He forced Max into a coat, taking him out barefoot across their front yard to the car.

David was in such a state he didn't even think to bring their insurance details with them, prioritising getting Max to ER to ensure he was safe. It didn't feel real. He kept waiting to wake up but it never happened.

He drove faster than he'd even driven a car in his entire lifetime, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Max was stitched up pretty much on arrival and given a blood transfusion after his blood pressure was deemed to be lacking severely. David could tell by just looking at Max's face how uncomfortable he was with the sympathetic eyes on him, believing them to be patronising him no doubt.

David rubbed his hands together nervously. Max's social worker and he needed to talk as soon as possible. He rubbed the teenager's back as the wound was sewn back together. He was in pain; David could tell from the way he gritted his teeth and glared at the ground. He requested for Max to be given a dose of painkillers.

The nurse said she would go and find Max's health records on the system when she was finished, dragging the curtain behind her to give them both a little privacy while she was gone.

"I love you, Max," said David once they were alone.

Max stared at his feet.

"You know that, don't you? Have I not been saying it enough?" continued David, hands still stained with his blood, teary eyed. "Have I made you feel like I don't?" He paused. "Why- why did you?"

"Stop," replied Max. His tone was set, cut off.

David recognised this meant he didn't want to talk about it. He kept going anyway. "If you could just-"

"Stop fucking talking."

David didn't try again.

The room was heavy, like it had been the first day they'd met. Everything they'd accomplished, every bit of progress David had ever made with Max, every secret, every tear, every smile. It felt phony somehow. David had thought Max had been happy. Finally, happy.

Max deserved happiness and David hadn't even been able to tell when he'd needed him the most.

His thoughts remained unsaid while Max rested his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_David,_

 _I know youre just gonna blame yourself cause youre like that but its not your fault okay?_

 _its me. This is whole letter writing thing is already gay enough so Im just gonna get to the point: I wanna die so Im gonna make it happen_

 _youre probably crying now so stop it. This is the best for both of us. I know youre upset but you deserve a better kid to look after youre too good a person to be wasted on someone like me._

 _Im not even yours and its not like anyone else will miss me._

 _You better play good music at my funeral or I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity. None of your country shit_

 _You'll get over it you big baby_

 _Max_

David's thumb brushed over the edges of the letter, re-reading it from top to bottom. He was now into the hundreds of how many times his eyes had scoured over the page in the past week.

 _Too good a person to be wasted on me_ , was a particular line that elicited distress from David, followed closely behind _its not like anyone else will miss me_ and _Im not even yours._

Not a single part of The Letter had anything on seeing _I wanna die_ in Max's handwriting, however. Reading those three words from Max's pen felt like David's insides were being cut apart with the rusty set of clippers at Campbell's Wildlife Retreat he used to tame the overgrown hedges.

David sighed, dropping the paper back into his desk and sliding the drawer shut. He rubbed his eyes and looked to the time, early hours staring back at him.

He hadn't been sleeping well, not after what had happened, making trip upon trip in the night to the bathroom to check it was empty, to Max's room to check he was settled in bed, to the locked cabinet downstairs where David now kept their razors, scissors, camping and kitchen knives.

At the thought of the cabinet, David pushed a hand into his breast pocket to check for its key, sudden tightness in his chest only loosening once he'd thumbed over the cool metal.

"What am I supposed to do?" pleaded David, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

His mind slipped back to the afternoon they'd come back from the hospital. A downpour had started just after lunch, and it remained that way the whole journey home. David remembered that Max had pulled up his hood as they stepped inside, hands disappearing back into baggy pockets.

"I didn't realise it was raining inside the house." David had given a playful smile. It wasn't returned.

They had gone inside, and Max had immediately retreated upstairs to his room. David had let him go, stood alone in their hallway in his blood-stained pyjamas, shucking off his jacket.

His instinct had been to call Gwen but he knew she'd be at work at this time and loathed to disturb her so, instead, David had put on a brave face and went into the kitchen to clean up. He'd noted some splodges of blood on the hallway carpet after he'd finished; he'd have to get out the carpet cleaner.

Now came the hardest part to remember: cleaning the upstairs bathroom.

Max's blood had been stubborn, especially on the grout between the tiles, David's knees and back sore from the endless scrubbing. He'd felt a little nauseous by the time everything looked remotely back to normal, the remnants filling garbage bags, ready to be tossed at the curb of the house and forgotten about.

David had approached Max's door, pressing an ear to the wood, able to hear the teenager shifting about inside.

"Max." David had knocked a couple of times with his elbow. "Max, can you give me your PJs? I'm gonna throw them out."

There had been silence and David had begun pumping himself up to speak again before Max's door had swung open. Bloodied fabric had been thrown out, the bottom of the door dragging against carpet as Max had slammed it back shut.

David had fretted outside a few moments, the ruined pyjamas bundled in his arms. He had knocked again. "Are you- are you okay in there?"

"Go away, David!" Max had yelled back, transparent he wanted to be alone.

 _At least he's alive_ , David had caught himself thinking, sighing. He had added Max's pyjamas to the garbage bag where they joined the ruined towels and a broken razor. He had peeled off his rubber gloves, adding those, too.

He had thrown everything outside, startling himself in the reflection of the front door window as he had realised he hadn't changed himself. "Oh, gosh darn it," he had muttered, relieved none of the neighbourhood kids had been out on the street to see him.

Feeling drained, David had gone back upstairs to shower and change, but not before he had stopped by Max's door, however, leaning in to give a quick listen. "Max? Would you like-"

" _Fuck off!_ For fuck's sake, David, are you fucking deaf?!" Max's scream was chilling, and David had flinched with each spiteful word. "I don't want anything. Why won't that get through your skull you stupid, fucking idiot?! Leave. Me. _Alone_!"

 _At least he's alive._

David had retreated silently, letting out a few shaky breaths. He had gone to the kitchen and had flicked on the stove, filling the kettle with cold water and waiting numbly for it to boil. He'd made himself a drink, manoeuvring into their living room where he sat alone on their old sofa.

"There, all sorted," he had spoken aloud. He remembered staring into the murky liquid of his tea before he had let out a dry laugh, smile aching the corners of his mouth. He'd then set the mug down on the coffee table.

David had held his head in his hands. The house may have been cleaned up, but things were far from sorted. Max had yet to leave his room and on top of that he was angry with him, and David just couldn't understand why. He hadn't known what the answers were.

He let out a soft sob first, then another, then another, and before David knew it he was crying into his hands.

All he could see behind his eyes was Max's frightened face, holding out his bleeding arm to him, begging him to help. All he could hear was Max's angry voice, screaming at him, telling him to leave him alone. He was an awful foster parent. He couldn't do anything right. He always tried his best but it was never enough. He was just as useless as his father always told him he was.

"David?"

David drew in a surprised breath and sat up. He pushed a smile onto his tear-streaked face to greet Max, who was stood at the doorway. The teenager looked unsure and nervous.

"Hi, Max; are you feeling hungry?" David sniffed, wiping his cheeks quickly and lighting up his bright smile to try and reassure him. "I think there's some leftover pizza in the fridge from your party if you want me to stick it in the microwave."

Max stayed where he was. "Why were you crying?"

David got up, rubbing his hands up and down Max's arms once he reached him. "Don't worry about that."

"Is it because of me?"

David had hesitated a few times. He hadn't wanted to lie, but Max was too old for that, too intelligent. "Yes," he had said, and wanted to take it back as Max's face had crumpled.

"I'm sorry," Max had apologised, looking down at his bare feet like he did when he knew he'd gone too far.

"It's okay, I know… everything's a little emotional right now," David had continued. "It's not your fault."

"It _is_ my fault. I treat you like shit and you're still so fucking nice to me." Max had wiped his eye with his sleeve.

"It's because I care about you, Max." David had squeezed his shoulders. "We're gonna figure this out together, okay?"

Max had shaken his head, eyes cast down. "You can't put a positive spin on this one, David. No one can."

 _You can't put a positive spin on this one, David – its not like anyone else will miss me – Im not even yours – You can't put a positive spin on this one, David – Im not even yours – You can't – You can't –_

 _No one can._

David, still hunched over at his desk, was shocked out of Max's voice with an epiphany.

He was up out of his chair, into the living room where he fetched their photo album, to the pantry where they kept craft supplies, to the hall where he pulled the landline off the hook, carrying everything back over to his desk.

"Try me, Max, just you wait and see." He was re-invigorated. David's face was a set rock of determination, thumbing Vanessa's cell into the number pad.

David eyed Max's plate, cautious smile on his face to hide his concern. "Don't you wanna eat a little more, Max?"

Max withheld a sigh. David was and always would be exhausting and overbearing, but this was approaching a whole new level. "No," he returned through gritted teeth.

"Okay." David dropped it. He needed Max in a reasonably calm mood tonight if he was going to convince him to come and sit in the living room with him a little while. Max had been getting into the habit of spending a lot of his time upstairs in bed, duvet draped over his head.

It concerned David, but he was hoping after Max saw his present, it might help ease him back into some sense of normality.

"Hey, Max," called David after they'd finished, catching him as Max attempted to sulk from the room.

He was up to his elbows in suds, washing up now that the leftovers had been packed up and put in the fridge for another day.

Max stopped and sighed, resting his forehead against the doorway a few moments. " _Yes_ , _David_?"

"You wanna watch a film with me? Maybe do some knitting? I found some new cross-stich patterns at the charity store today, too, if you'd prefer to do that," rambled David, setting a plate out to dry.

 _Please_ , thought David, _please, oh, please, oh-_

" _Fine,"_ groaned Max, negotiating,"but only if I get to pick what we watch."

"Sure thing, Max," said David, gentler this time.

As Max left for the living room, David slipped to his desk to fetch a box hidden in his draw, straightening the ribbon on the front and taking an anxious breath. He desperately hoped Max's reaction would be a positive one, heading through to gift it to him.

David's heart was hammering upon entering the room.

Max already had Netflix open, flicking through new releases at top speed as he tried to find the most graphic R-rated movie possible.

"I have something for you," he said, the painted cardboard feeling cool under his sweating hands.

"What is it?" asked Max, glancing up. He slowed the furious tapping of the remote.

"You'll have to open it and see." David sat down, holding the box out for the teenager to take.

Max raised an eyebrow. He tossed the remote control aside and took the present from David's outstretched hands. He removed the lid and unwrapped the tissue paper, finding a hardback book inside, covered in a pine tree print. Max looked up at David, confused. "A notebook?"

"Open it," insisted David.

Max sighed and pulled the book out from inside, letting the box and its lid slide sideways onto the floor. He turned over the hard casing. His flipping of the pages slowed once he realised what was inside, Max's face softening in recognition of the memory the pictures inside ignited.

They were from the first camping trip David had even taken him on - the first camping trip Max had experienced in his life - back in that inital week Vanessa had placed him with David.

David had been insistent on making use of the camera he'd brought with them at the time, claiming recording memories was important with that dumbass smile on his face. Although it had flared Max's irritation at the time, and said irritation was visible bubbling on the surface of his face in most of the photographs, a very secret, very small part of himself now was glad David had taken them.

David, much to Max's chagrin, ended up being right about most things, and the importance of recording memories was most definitely one of them.

Most of the photos were of just him: Max wading in the lake, Max roasting marshmallows, Max sat in David's old car, Max watching birds, Max fast asleep inside his sleeping bag. There was one of the two of them, however, sat together in the dying light of a sunset, David grinning from ear to ear like he was having the best evening of his life, and Max, sat a strict foot away from his new caretaker, frowning into the lens grumpily.

It was hard to believe Max had once been so cautious of David's touch.

After the camping photos, the pictures became a little more sporadic, although they were still somewhat chronological.

Pictures of Max's first day at school, birthdays, Thanks Giving, Christmas, days out with Nicki and Neil, camping, hiking… the card he'd made for one of David's birthdays was glued down on one of the pages, some doodles he'd thought David would have thrown away, some ticket stubs from the first theatre show David had ever taken him to (he'd told David it was stupid, when really he'd ended up enjoying it, just like David said he would).

It was near the end of the album that surprised Max.

 _GET BETTER SOON MAX!_ was written across two of the pages in big, ballooned font, different patterns scribbled inside each letter.

On the left page David had glued down a group photo from his birthday party and he had embellished it with a border of paper balloons. He took a moment to look at the photo; Max stood in between Nicki and Neil while some other students from Max's current school, handpicked to attend by Max himself, stood around them. The picture itself broadcasted the message David was trying to send him, but it was the inscriptions filling every available space around the image that took Max off-guard.

 _I've cast a charm of healing into this gem, it should keep you protected from evil thoughts and spirits,_ had written Nerris, signed off with her name, a little plastic bead taped next to her words.

 _Come back 2 school soon dude, science is hella lame w/out my lil buddy_ _,_ came from Enid's sloppy hand, followed by a few skulls and a bleeding heart.

Similar messages followed, Preston claiming drama wasn't the same without his improv-partner, Harrison telling him to get better soon so he could come over for dinner, Dolph having drawn him a flower that looked… suspiciously like a Swastika.

Space Kid had drawn something too, a space ship with a stick figure inside, the arrow above its head explaining it was Max, although he would have guessed due to the wild hair. _To recovery and beyoooond!_ he had written over the top.

Even Nurf had written a wobbly _Get Well Soon,_ punctuated by his name in block capitals.

Max exhaled through his nose in amusement.

The page across from this was an older picture, although just by a couple of years; Max, Neil and Nicki sat together at the picnic, post Nicki's mum's and Neil's dad's wedding. Nicki had mud all down her dress from falling over in the park, one arm hauled around her new step-brother's shoulders, the other around Max's as she hugged them into her and grinned for David's camera.

 _YOU'RE AWESOME MAX! AND WE LOVE YOU! AND YOU'RE AWESOME!_ Nicki had written, taking up most of the space under the photo. She'd written the words in different coloured markers, decorated with a smatter of glitter glue and blobs of… nail polish?

Neil had managed to squeeze into the space underneath Nicki's explosive writing, _Get better soon, Max. Dad says when we go on holiday this summer you can come with us, so come visit soon._

The best part was the sign off, which almost had Max grinning:

 _YOUR BEST FRIEND,_

 _NICKI_ _Neil_ _NICKI_ _Neil_

 _your best friends,_

 _NICKI and Neil_

Max gripped the edges of the book tighter, eyes flickering back up at David before he turned the page, having reached the end.

The final picture was another one of him and David - he remembered Gwen taking it when the three of them had gone out for pizza one evening after a particular shitty day at school. Max was smiling for the camera in this one, a rarity. David's hand was on his shoulder, hugging him into his side. There were sat in front of a half-eaten pizza, stains from the chocolate milkshake Max had been ordered by his Aunt down his front.

Max huffed a soft smile.

A letter was tucked into a makeshift pocket at the back, the paper feeling heavy under his fingers as Max pulled the envelope from its place, letting the scrapbook drop down onto his lap. He closed it and set it aside on the coffee table, bandages flashing from under his hoodie sleeve as the material stretched.

Max's whole attention was on the envelope now. _To Max_ , was written across the front, in David's obnoxious handwriting.

It was one of the same envelopes Max had snatched from David's desk. The envelope he'd stuffed his own letter inside previously, when he'd truly believed he was going to go through with it. He looked up at David, who nodded encouragingly, so he tore it open and unfolded the pages inside.

 _Max,_

 _I don't even know where to begin, so I'll just start with I love you._

 _I'm hoping that by the time you've reached this letter, I've managed to make my point clear to you, but just in case, I'll reiterate._

 _I love you, Max._

 _We all love you: Aunt Gwen, Vanessa, Nicki, Neil, your friends, your teachers, your classmates._

 _I can't imagine my life without you in it, and neither can they._

 _You are good enough, you will never be wasted on me and, most important of all, you are, and always will be, my son._

 _I hope now you can believe me when I say it. And if not, then I can only hope this next page will convince you._

 _David x_

Max's eyes were blurry, wiping them against his shoulder. He moved the letter aside to see the page underneath.

He almost couldn't believe what he saw.

 _CERTIFICATE OF DECREE OF ADOPTION_ was stamped at the top of the page, David's stupid, squiggly signature at the bottom - and there was Max's name, his name with David's last name after it.

Max's last name.

A solid lump formed in Max's throat. He looked up to see his dad was already crying for him.

David wiped his eyes. "I hope it's not too-"

Max threw himself across the space between them before any more words could come out of David's mouth, Max's arms around his neck. He pressed his face against David's shoulder. "Your handwriting looks like a girl's," said Max into the fabric of David's dorky t-shirt, the words muffled but intelligible.

Max felt David laugh, once, lanky arms wrapping around him. Max could hear him still blubbering away like the cry-baby he was, Max fighting his own sobs.

"I love you," sobbed David.

Max closed his eyes, feeling wrapped in a bubble of safety as fat tears of his own trickled down his cheeks. "I love you, too, Dad," he said. "I love you, too."


End file.
